


fever

by reaperangelique



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Kitchen Sex, Sexual Tension, buckets of sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3646062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaperangelique/pseuds/reaperangelique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's hot as hell this summer. austria likes having handsome, sweaty boys with no shirts doing her chores.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fever

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on dreamwidth in 2013. written very quickly and assby had something to do with it.

Thirty-five degrees Celsius, and climbing; the forecast was predicting forty by the weekend. Hardly a surprise considering the weeks of fair weather beforehand, but Austria had not expected it to get _quite_ so hot, and she'd had a moment of dread at the news. It was one thing to feel the sun beat down upon her, becoming sticky in the stifling air- one could always retreat inside, preferably to an ice bath. It was altogether another to feel the heat rise in her skin, the coolness of her climate overwhelmed by the soaring temperatures, the baking earth and the scorched concrete, dry and burning- not that the dryness reached her, except in her throat. She was humid, glowing (not sweating), cheeks rouged by the exertion of being alive.

It was troublesome. The world, most unfortunately, had not stopped for her, and she could not lie in her ice bath waiting for summer to end. Appearing in public presented some problems, with her usual attire now a torment- if a suit in an air-conditioned meeting room felt like a straitjacket, petticoats and wool jackets were laughable- and yet people expected her to be _outside._ _Visible._ With her hair untameable and piled on her head, strands escaping, and wearing a thin sundress, white and sleeveless, flared at the waist but lacking the usual impressive volume. It was borderline indecent by her reckoning, limbs and décolletage glowing pale in the bright sunlight for all to see. Fortunate, then, that the only ones to see her were, for all intents and purposes, close family; and more importantly, easily bullied into silence on the matter.

She supposed she should be thankful, though the thought was derisive. Germany had promised to take a look at her car- she had broken down in Salzburg two weeks previous, insisting that neither the impressive age of her car nor her lackadaisical approach to driving was to blame- and now he had found the time to make good on it. Coincidentally, an- _incident-_ caused by his brother had occurred in the interim, and so Prussia- grudgingly, dragging his feet, cursing the air blue- had been brought along to make reparations. (She was still cleaning up chicken feed in her study, and that bust of Mozart was sadly beyond repair.)

He certainly was making reparations, though. Austria was not alone in her fever, the heatwave sweeping through her neighbours, and she could see it in him, sweating, suffering as he thrust the fork into the earth, scattering dirt across the grass. While Germany retreated to the garage to puzzle over the grand and useless old car, Prussia was busy in the flowerbeds, tilling them in preparation for Austria's spectacular kaleidoscope of lilies...though not with any particular delicacy. He seemed to be taking his frustrations out on the ground, though occasionally he sent a murderous look in the direction of his overseer- as if he might like to use the fork, if not on her, then on her frilly parasol.

Austria was watching over him, of course. She couldn't have him run roughshod over her garden. A shady haven had been set up for her, the umbrella covering a recliner and a small table holding a pitcher of water, as well as a bottle of extremely high factor sunscreen- Germany had insisted. She was still wilting, even with her large hand-held fan to make up for the feeble breeze, barely enough energy in her to hold her head up and keep an eye on him. In fact she occasionally dozed off, her sunglasses keeping her secret safe.

'If you fall asleep, I'll use your parasol as a shovel, princess.'

So much for that. She jolted awake, glaring over her glasses at his back, broad and glistening and turning red.

'I am wide awake, thank you,' she replied, stern to cover her wrongfootedness. 'I can barely sleep at night in this weather, let alone out here. Could you _aim_ that, please, I would prefer not to have half the lawn torn up.'

He snorted, straightening up to look at her and leaning on the handle. Even at a distance she could see the dampness of his skin, rivulets running down his neck, and his hair remained splayed at odd angles when he ran a hand through it. 'Could you come up here and do this yourself?! No? Then no complaining! Be thankful my swelteringly hot, in both senses, self is even here! I could be sitting in the freezer right now if it weren't for you tattling to West!'

To punctuate his rant, Prussia threw the fork aside, reaching for a trowel instead and crouching down to dig angry holes in the flowerbed. He was still throwing looks at her, sullen and stubborn, deriving some small satisfaction at seeing her sweat along with him- but it was short-lived; she seemed pristine even so, merely showing off more skin-

'If you would not wreak havoc in my house and destroy my property, we would not have to do things this way,' Austria sighed, relaxing again and slowly fanning herself. She reached for the sweating glass of cool water, bringing it to her lips, as casually as you like, though she watched him still behind the dark lenses. Saw him lick his lips and swallow in tandem with her, and rub the back of his neck. He was obviously uncomfortable. She revelled in it. 'Believe me, I would prefer to be alone. Are you thirsty?'

Prussia's head whipped around, away from the scarlet lily he was planting, and he stared at her- actually-

'N-no! Hah, unlike weak aristocrats, I'm used to hard work! I won't be dehydrated so quickly! Pfft, your indoor lifestyle is showing,' he snickered, waving her off, but as soon as his back was turned he groaned inwardly at his parched throat. And despite being unable to see his expression, she was quite sure he was lying. Well, he wasn't known for his subtlety.

'Very well.' Another deep, lazy sip. 'Perhaps your brother requires refreshment. I will ask him in a moment.'

A startlingly yellow flower tipped over on to its side as Prussia stopped paying attention to it. 'Forget West! That insolent brat is holed up in the shade! While his elder brother sweats out his lifeblood! He can get it himself!'

_'He_ is doing exactly as asked of him, without complaint,' Austria snapped, letting her fan fall shut and levelling it at Prussia. 'Don't put the yellow ones there, I told you. The white ones first. Can you do nothing without being asked a hundred times?'

'Fine, fine, the white ones! Jesus Christ!' The heat was obviously getting to him. Austria found herself wondering how long he would stand it, and her orders, as he threw the trowel down, planting a white lily rather roughly. It would be wiser- and easier on her poor garden- to leave him be, but...seeing him work and strain, skin streaked with dirt and perspiration, at her command- and the fury in his features with each retort- it was a slightly sick pleasure. She blamed him entirely for the questionable tastes she'd cultivated over the years.

And he was not without questionable tastes of his own, she knew. Something kept him toiling away there, more than the threat of revoked computer privileges or suplexes. She could see his eyes swivelling back to her now and then, and she doubted he was looking solely at her glass. After all, she was paying very little attention to the flowers whenever she looked his way.

Eventually his dehydration began to concern her just a little more. 'Perhaps you would like to take a break. You can go and ask Deutschland if he needs something to drink.'

Prussia scoffed at her over his shoulder, but he finished patting down the earth around the flower he was planting before standing up. Without her needling at him he had done a neat and tidy job of it, on the whole. 'Her Highness is gracious today. Tch, you just don't want to get up! Fine, I'll check up on West. Kid's probably too blockheaded to get himself a drink while he's working!'

She watched him go, walking away from her around the house. His faded, torn up jeans were offensive to her eyes...but they were flattering on him.

 

As it happened, Germany was certainly not too blockheaded to keep himself hydrated. Even in the shade of the garage, fixing Austria's car was thirsty work, and he'd shed his soaked shirt and finished off a large bottle of water already. Still, he was making good progress, and as much as he complained about it, he admired Austria's vintage vehicle, still shining and immaculate even now. All in all, he was having a peaceful afternoon. He hadn't had to run out and break up a fight or anything-

'Oi, West! Who's the gun show for?!'

Ah.

He straightened up from where he'd been bending over the hood of the car, brandishing a wrench. 'What are you doing? You're supposed to be planting flowers. Stop slacking off- don't touch that!'

Prussia made a hasty retreat from the toolbox he'd been poking around in, laughing. _'Madame_ said I could take a break, just so she could have me run errands! She said something about a drink- shouldn't you be using this one to tighten that?' He hefted another wrench, pointing helpfully at the valve Germany had been working on.

'No! Put it down!' In fact he may have been right, but that was beside the point. 'What drink? You're not drinking while you have work to do.'

'Relax, not what I meant!' Prussia shook his head, tossing the wrench at his brother without warning. 'Soft drink. You want one? I bet it's something delicious, knowing Miss Too-Much-Time-On-Her-Hands! Home-made lemonade! If you don't want it I'll drink i- '

'Fine.' Germany cut across him, catching the wrench- with his grip, he seemed very close to bending it in half. 'Fine! And don't throw these! Watch your mouth and thank her if she's getting you anything!'

With that Prussia was unceremoniously herded out, protesting and laughing. Germany took his irritation out on the car...by precisely and carefully tightening valves.

 

The air shimmered as Prussia returned to her. For a feverish moment, sleep threatening to encroach upon her, Austria assumed he was a daydream; stalking towards her, shielding his eyes from the glare, the planes of his abdomen defined by light and moisture...what?

'Sleeping again?' He stood over her, blocking out the light, and she lowered her sunglasses to see him better.

'No. Does he want something to drink?'

'Why don't you ask me if _I_ want something to dr- '

'Bruder! Österreich!'

'I did ask you- what are you shouting about, Deutschland?'

Germany came to a halt on the lawn, hands on hips, a picture of consternation. 'You have sunburn. I told you to reapply suncreen regularly! Put it on! And you, Österreich, you'll burn and then complain to me!'

They looked at him, then slowly at each other. Differences aside, Germany's neuroses united them. And he knew it.

'Don't look like that! Just do it! I won't have any sympathy if you burn.'

And with that he was gone, muttering about his elders and betters.

Prussia snorted with laughter, Austria sighing into her fan in concert with him. She _had_ applied it, and she was in the shade regardless, but Prussia really was turning an interesting shade of pink. And there were so many lilies left to be planted.

'Perhaps you ought to take his advice, Preußen,' she suggested, pointing at the bottle. 'And drink some water, before you suffer heatstroke.' She poured it for him, into her glass.

It was a tempting sight- he had lost interest in pretending to be untouched by the sun. And though he hardly cared about sun protection, even he had the foresight to realise he would care about it later that night when it hurt to move. Reluctantly, he nudged at her legs with one foot, causing her to draw them up in horror.

'Tch, fine. Move,' he grumbled, occupying the vacated space at the end of the recliner, and reaching for the bottle of sunscreen. He was filthy, but he poured out a generous amount anyway, slathering it over his arms. Behind him, irked at his invasion of her space, Austria watched. Up close, his back was a fractured work of art, scarred and sculpted, muscle and shoulder blades shifting under his burning skin with each stretch of his arms. She thought of her own soft, rounded form, slender arms and voluptuous thighs in stark opposition to his wiry muscle, the ease with which he lifted her- and he had, sometimes innocently, sometimes...

'Can't reach my back. Give me that glass, I'm shriveling up. This is against labour laws, damn aristocrats...'

The glass was quietly pushed into his hand, and he raised it to his lips, sloppily draining half of it, cool water running down his chin and evaporating as it reached his chest. His back arched, muscles tightening as cold, viscous liquid slid down his spine, but he wasn't surprised, didn't turn around.

Austria hesitated before pressing her fingertips into the fluid, against his skin. 'You are...sweating...'

It earned her a short bark of laughter, as Prussia rolled his aching neck. 'Yeah...? You're observant today, princess.'

'Oh...shut up.' Her palm was warm, but cooler than his skin, cooler still as it worked the lotion into his back. The layer of grime was less noticeable under the sunscreen, faintly scented, and soon she was using both hands, taking her time; she felt every ripple, every line of uneven skin where some battle had taken its toll- perhaps these were her doing, some of them... She often chided him for taking an odd pleasure in tactile sensations, patting people on the head and the like, but she could understand it. Feeling his tension dissipate as she moved her hands over his shoulders, fingers reaching his clavicle and lightly touching his neck- even as he relaxed she could feel the strength he'd cultivated, by necessity more than choice, always present just under the surface like a coiled spring.

He was still as she worked. Her concentration, absorbed in him as she was, took precedence over noticing, but he was silent, no complaint or teasing comment coming to his lips. This was rare; he had lost himself in her body, when she allowed it, in the dark so she could not see his fascination, but Austria did not often allow herself to be caught indulging in the same way. Prussia let her be, breathing deep and slow. It was a great compliment, this lover of the arts with her delicate hands touching him, studying him. He had little idea what attracted her, truthfully.

Austria was reticent on the matter, of course. But there is an allure to those unlike ourselves.

The intention- to protect his back from the sun- had been all but forgotten as her hands slipped down his sides, caressing his ribs and his waist, and Prussia could only tolerate this for so long. He turned, first his neck, then his torso, shifting to look back at her, and he met startled eyes, shining over dark glasses that were swiftly thrown aside. Then he met her lips, wet and plump, parted in anticipation; his own grazed them, chapped and papery, but she had a hand on his cheek already, slick with sunscreen. It was brief, his neck aching by the time she pulled away, though he still didn't move.

'Not here,' she breathed, and then, 'Your lips are dry, you have been out here too long.'

He ran his tongue over them, grinning. 'Slavedriver.'

'Quiet! I offered you a drink.' Austria pushed at him then, chastening from the recliner, and getting to her feet. She bustled past him, fussing pointlessly at her hair. 'Come, your brother is waiting for refreshments.'

In the kitchen, cool and dim after the glimmer of every surface outside, she washed her hands (it was disgusting, expecting her to touch him when he felt like that) and admonished him to do the same (he wouldn't be touching her glassware with those filthy hands). She would have had him throw himself in the sink if he was able, unsubtle in her desires, but still she busied herself pouring lemonade and crushing ice until Prussia brushed away the hair at the back of her neck, pressing a kiss to the pinnacle of her spine.

The large windows in Austria's kitchen did not reach the eastern end of it, and it was fortunate; she could throw her head back as he lifted her to the island counter and kissed her throat without fear of being seen. Her fingers grasped his hair, short, manicured nails raking through it and drawing a hum of satisfaction from him. She knew how to touch him, perceptive and quick to memorise such things, and he loathed and loved her for it, forever improvising to keep up. He relied on her reactions- his hand on the back of her thigh, that made her roll her hips towards him- the spot behind her ear, kissing that earned him a sigh. He tried to wrap his arms around her waist, pull her tight against him, but her hands were on his shoulders, holding him back; she shook her head.

'My- my dress- '

She knew he would roll his eyes at her, but she dragged the zipper down anyway- it was _white_ and he was a stain waiting to happen. Better that he pressed against her skin, she thought, as she slid out of it; skin that was glowing (not sweating) already, what was another layer of grime-

'Come here,' he groaned, but there was a note of the old officer in it, and she let him tussle with her underwear until it joined her dress on the floor, his chest flush against her stomach and his tongue suddenly tasting the faint salt and sweetness of her skin. Now she could feel the roughness of his palms as they roamed her back, so soft and unsullied compared to his, and the way they lingered and squeezed at her waist and hips, feeling the evidence of her pampered lifestyle and making her squirm. He laughed against her chest, mouth hot against the underside of her breasts, then closing around her nipple- that seemed to tickle, he noted, listening to her gasps- and he sucked none too gently, releasing her with a flick of his tongue.

He could hardly decide which way to move, she could see him struggling to choose, pushing her legs apart but mouthing his way back up to her neck. Austria tried to make a polite suggestion, raising one leg in hopes of getting it over his shoulder- one of her dainty pumps fell off in the process- but he held her fast, straightening up to kiss her hard and grind his clothed hips against her. She surrendered, but on her terms, pushing her tongue into his mouth and winding her arms around his neck, her legs resisting his hold until he gave in and let them encircle him, holding him tight. Now she could feel him, hard and already bucking against her, the pressure drawing a moan from her- she was always sensitive, Prussia's taunts turned out to be truer than he'd ever suspected.

And she was fast losing patience with his methods, as much as she appreciated his reverent touches and eager kisses. Her heels pressed into the backs of his thighs, and her hands left his shoulders in favour of pawing at his stomach and hips, stiff denim in her way until he awkwardly reached down to unfasten his jeans. Austria's hands were skilled, but her reach was finite, fingertips slipping under fabric and barely brushing the base of his cock while she leaned over to leave possessive marks on his neck.

'Preußen,' she growled, nipping at his ear in warning, but soon it was a whine- his calloused thumbs were rolling over her nipples, grazing down her belly, mercifully clean fingers eventually delving roughly between her outer lips. He found her wet and wanting, his stroking hard and imprecise, making her press against him and bite down on his shoulder- and then, 'Please, now, just do it- '

Austria was happy to be manhandled, for once, though she noted his gentleness even as he laid her on her back, sprawling on her island countertop; he pulled her towards him, hands gripping her ass the only thing supporting her from the waist down, and there was a thrill of unsafeness. Prussia would be insulted if she implied he'd let her fall, but, well, it _had_ happened.

His left hand suddenly disappeared, and for moment she thought she would fall, gripping the edges of the counter; it returned a moment later, and she had no more thoughts to spare it, the tip of his cock pressing into her, slick and hot and filling her easily. He bent over her, one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her securely, bracing himself against the counter with his free hand, and she murmured to him, encouraging and sweet.

It was fast, hard, exhausting; he was aching already, and she felt as though she would burn up, her hand between her legs before she knew what she was doing. There was a noise of protest from him as he noticed, lost to a groan as she tightened around him, but she knew better than to expect him to concentrate enough for _that_ on top of everything else (and he had no hands free). Instead she let him thrust into her uninterrupted, warm friction building and boiling over, his skin thudding damply against hers now that his pants had fallen (and God, she hoped he wouldn't trip over them). Her toes curled as she grew closer, high, short cries escaping her with each little peak of pleasure, always threatening to tip her over the edge of her climax but never quite managing it- just a bit more, more, and she might have said it aloud-

'Fuck- Österreich- ' Prussia was always vulgar when they did this, and she would scold him for it again when they were finished, but in the moment it was another part of his appeal, that rough voice speaking her name and all manner of obscenities, fitting enough for the circumstance. He bent his head over her again, and she looked up at him, eyelids heavy; she could see him sweat, his cheeks and lips flushed red, eyes downcast. She reached for his cheek with her free hand, and for a moment they gazed at each other, his pulse pounding against her fingers.

It was a short-lived connection, her eyes closing tight and her head thrown back as she came, fingers cramping with the effort of drawing out her orgasm. They would have to hope Germany had not come up to the house, because her moans were unmistakable, loud and long- Prussia might have been embarrassed had he been able to think. Fortunate, then, that he had to work hard merely to breathe, drawing back completely before burying himself in her again, over and over, until he pulled out with a guttural groan and emptied himself over her, hand on his cock.

She opened her eyes as she felt the splashes against her stomach, a dim sensation amongst the heat and sweat of her afterglow; he never could do it neatly. It was another reason to shower, not that she needed one. Another way for him to make a mess of her, to ruin the perfect porcelain princess. She didn't mind much.

But he was tired now, his face buried in her neck as he heaved his every breath, and she stroked his hair as she waited. It wasn't comfortable, the cold tile beneath her, but she could have slept there.

'Ice'll be melted,' came the first groggy remark. Another minute and he pushed himself up and off the counter, staggering back- and he did almost trip, before he caught himself and pulled up his pants. Austria struggled to sit up, feeling awfully heavy and blinking around at her kitchen.

'...Give me a damp cloth and help me down.'

When she was back on solid ground and slightly less sticky, she reluctantly dressed herself, finding her missing shoe and squeezing back into her dress, hindered by her clammy skin. Underwear last, and most reluctant. Once again she was reminded of why she generally insisted on staying in the bedroom, with a bath and clean clothes in reach.

'Gonna let West see you like this?' Prussia leaned against the counter, swigging from a glass of lemonade and watching her intently. Austria gave him an exasperated look as she set the pitcher and a glass on a tray, already heading back out to the garden.

'The heat does _terrible_ things to me. He will be polite enough not to comment.' Unless he wanted another wrench thrown at him.

 

Germany was under the car when Austria slipped into the garage, rolling out enough to greet her when she was a safe enough distance away, lest he see something he shouldn't.

'Ah, thanks. Did you just make that?' He got to his feet, wiping his hands on a rag before joining her. 'You took a while. Not that I have a complaint.'

'My apologies. Yes, it's perfectly fresh,' she replied easily, pouring him a glass. 'Have as much as you'd like. Please excuse me, I will be retiring to take a shower. You are fine out here without me?'

He nodded, halfway through a sip. 'Mm. Sorry to keep you out in the heat. I know you dislike it.' He carefully refrained from commenting on what must have been the effects of some horrendous humidity.

'I believe I am learning to tolerate it. Carry on, then.'

With that she left. And Germany enjoyed his drink in peace.

Five minutes or so later, Prussia poked his head around the door, and Germany didn't bother rolling out for him.

'West, I'm taking an extended break.'

'Mmh.'

'She says I can!'

'Right.'

'I'm sweating like a pig, I'm taking a shower, alright.'

'Fine.'

And he was gone.

There were no more interruptions, and Germany worked quietly on the car, only birds chirping in the distance for a long while.

But he did wonder to himself, briefly. 'Just how many bathrooms does she have?'


End file.
